


Hannigram Ficlets

by Jhonni



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Dream Sex, Dreams, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Hannibal Cooks, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a dork, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied Anthony Dimmond, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Mentioned Mischa Lecter, Nail Polish, Oral Sex, Possessive Will, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, S&M, Sassy Will Graham, Scars, Shameless Smut, Shaving, Smut, That kind of party, Will Loves Hannibal, hannibal cries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:30:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jhonni/pseuds/Jhonni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short writings about Will and Hannibal. Not beta'ed. Mistakes are my own.</p><p>Comments, constructive criticism always welcome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beautiful inside and out

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on Tumblr at lecteronthelam (Hannibal Lecter rp) and acutehypersensitivity (Will Graham rp)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will might still be self-conscious about his cheek scar. Maybe.

It was the second day in a row Hannibal stared at him all through breakfast. Today he had barely touched his quiche and not even bothered to refill his coffee. 

Will’s jaw was tight as he forked in more of the scrambled eggs Hannibal had insisted on making after he inadvertently turned his nose up at the menu. A hiss of coffee made its way through his teeth between bites. 

“Analyzing?,” he managed without lifting his head.

“Observing.” 

The pointedness of Hannibal’s reply pricked. 

“What are we observing?,” Will sighed, slumping back as he clasped the mug. 

Hannibal backtracked seamlessly. “You. Enjoying a well-cooked meal.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Will chuffed. 

Hannibal smiled, standing to collect his plate and utensils. “On the contrary. I’m an exceptional liar. I’m just not good at lying to you.” Excusing himself, he returned a moment later with the coffee pot. 

“Your beard has grown in.” 

Will watched as Hannibal poured. “And?”

“Observing.” Hannibal kept his eyes low as he slipped onto his chair, smoothing his trousers.

“You don’t like it.”

“I like it fine.” Delicately positioning his fingers, he lifted his cup with two hands.

Will sighed again. His neck stretched as he scratched his jaw. 

“It’s just …” 

“Just what?” Will set down his mug, running his tongue over the scar inside his cheek. “You’ve seen me with a beard before.”

Allowing a small smile, Hannibal sipped. “I have,” he swallowed, ignoring the prickle of heat on his thighs. 

In addition to lying, Hannibal was terrible at being passive aggressive. Will exhaled a deep breath. His lips moved as if practicing before he finally spoke. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll shave it.” Calloused thumbs stroked over the newly-warm mug as his eyes lifted. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Hannibal smiled wistfully, lost for a moment in Will’s face. Working down a lump in his throat, he moved to stand next to Will’s chair, bringing his face level. 

“What I want is for you to see yourself the way I see you. Just once.” 

His eyes closed as he kissed Will’s cheek. “Beautiful, inside and out,” he breathed.


	2. Chicken soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-WotL. Even in tropical climates, people do get colds.

The last time he made chicken soup it was under very different circumstances. 

This recipe was new. No silky chicken or exotic spices. 

A taste of home seemed appropriate. Some small comfort while his beloved was ailing with a miserable cold.

Onion skins roasted with the bones gave the broth its deep color and flavor. Homemade noodles and a sprinkle of fresh parsley completed the humble dish.

Standing barefoot at the stove, he watched small bubbles form at the edge of the pot as he gave it a stir, smiling as he heard footsteps padding over the hardwood floor.

Curls mussed, Will rubbed his sleepy eyes, loose pajama pants puddling at his ankles as he stepped close. “Mm. Is that…?” 

Leaning into the arms wrapped around his waist, Hannibal hummed. “Chicken soup? Yes. I thought it might help.”

“You’re always so thoughtful.” Sighing through a lazy smile, Will nestled into his shoulder. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Only all day,” Hannibal teased, flashing a quick grin.

Blue eyes wandered to the window, mesmerized by the palms swaying in the setting sun. “I thought people down here never got colds.”

“I doubt you’re the first.” Hannibal smirked, lacing his hands behind Will’s neck. 

“Fortunately you happen to be married to not only an excellent cook but a first rate doctor.” 

Lips brushed over a warm cheek as he pressed close. “Mm. I’m sure with the proper care you’ll be all better soon.”

Breathing in the older man’s familiar scent, Will pressed a kiss to his neck. 

“How did I ever get so lucky.” 

Taking Hannibal by the wrist, Will nodded toward the bedroom. “We can have the soup later. I think I need a sponge bath first.”


	3. A moment, everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the moments you least expect that count the most.

Hannibal’s nose twitched with the scent of the outdoors. A smile following a second later as he continued stirring the pot. Not even a flinch as a hand skimmed over his back.

“I was trying to be quiet that time,” Will said, popping a beer open.

A quick glance revealed the lovely sight of the young man’s throat bobbing as he quaffed a long drink.

“It’s not your footsteps,” Hannibal corrected.

“Oh yes,” Will gestured grandly with the bottle in his hand. “The smell. Speaking of which …” 

His chin poked over the doctor’s shoulder. “Whatever it is you’re cooking smells incredible.” 

Accented by his stomach rumbling, it was high praise indeed.

A proud grin pulled Hannibal’s cheeks taut. “A Venetian sauce for the fish you caught earlier today. Some fingerling potatoes with a little chive. A good bottle of white.”

Recognizing the unspoken command, Will set about to open the wine, the corkscrew conveniently nearby as always. 

“How did this become my job again?” 

Blue eyes sparkled beneath a tangle of curls as he offered the first glass to the chef. 

“Not that I mind.”

“Are you sure?” Hannibal tucked his nose into the glass for a sniff. 

“We can always go back to the way things were. Back when I was courting your affection. Spoiling you rotten.” 

His teeth flashed in a quick smile as he raised the glass to his lips.

Brow knit in feigned thought, a chuckle gave Will away. “Maybe on my birthday, but for the most part I like things just like this.” 

The beer was cold in his hand. Just what he needed after a long day on the dock.

“Just like this then.” Hannibal smiled, true and open, clinking the bottle.

Running his fingers over the glass neck, Will lowered his eyes. A moment of deliberate silence shared. 

“Are you happy … I mean, with us. As things are?”

The words froze Hannibal where he stood, a tender ache spreading over his chest. Setting his wine down, he approached with purpose, lifting Will’s chin. 

“Look at me.” 

Maroon searched blue, beckoning. “I couldn’t possibly be any happier than I am right now. With you. Just like this.” 

A small kiss lingered with a brush of his thumb. Eyes wide and soft, he drew back with a sigh.

“Don’t ever question what _this_ is. This is everything.”

Looking into those soulful eyes, Will paused, realizing that he believed every word. 

“To everything then. To us.” 

The words lifted a weight from his shoulders. 

“How apt.” Hannibal teased, downing his wine in gulp just as the sauce began to bubble over. 

“Damn it ...” 

Rushing back to the stove, he stirred furiously as he lifted the pot off the heat. 

Unable to keep from laughing, Will pressed his lips tight.

Without turning his head, Hannibal snapped. “I hear you, William.” 

“Okay, okay,” Will laughed, pushing up his sleeves. “What do you need me to do?”


	4. Hot chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visit to Will's office.

As soon as Will opened the door, he could smell him.

Even without Hannibal’s preternatural olfactory sense, it was hard to miss. Sandalwood cologne along with a hint of that expensive cream that made his hands so soft. And something else - cinnamon perhaps?

“Been baking?” Will smiled, closing the office door to find the good doctor sitting in the corner chair, as expected.

Smoothing his coat as he stood, Hannibal produced a thermos from beside him. 

“Mexican hot chocolate. I thought you might enjoy something different on your coffee break.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Pink lips twitched in a smirk as Will snatched it away, disarming the older man of the pretext. 

“I suppose you’d like to join me in a cup.” 

“Well, since you asked.” 

Wasting no time, Hannibal shimmied out of his coat, tossing it carelessly over the chair before filling Will’s mug and the thermos cap for himself. 

“I would have brought some whipped cream, but I was afraid it would go flat on the drive over.” 

The mug at his lips, blue eyes teased in a coy, upturned gaze. 

“No whipped cream? What a shame. You must be slipping, Hannibal.” 

Swallowing a deep drink, he licked his lips with a hum. 

“Mm. Not bad. Especially that little bit of heat.”

“Cayenne.” Hannibal answered by rote, still transfixed by young man’s mouth.

Pleased with the reaction, the teacher moved within arms reach, casting a lewd look down the length of his lover’s body. Raising a brow as he savored another sip, his tongue flicked to catch an invisible drop. 

“Aren’t you going to have some?”

Fumbling for words now, Hannibal glanced at the cup in his hand. “I- I suppose …”

“You suppose?” 

A smirk set on Will’s face as he took the cup away, setting it down on the desk with his own. 

“You really are terrible at this,” he chuckled, lacing his fingers behind the older man’s neck. 

Easing into the familiar position, Hannibal laughed as he rested his hands on slender hips. 

“Am I really that bad?”

“Awful.” 

Will brushed a kiss under his jaw, purring as he pressed his body close.

A shudder of breath invaded his curls, a nose nuzzling. 

“Did it work anyway?”

“Mmm. What do you think?” 

Gently tugging his lover’s hair, a sharp nip punctuated Will’s reply. 

Hannibal’s throat bobbed as he lifted his chin, his voice shaky and breathless. “Lock the door, Will.”

A smile spreading wide, Will nudged his chin higher with languid, wet kisses. 

“I already did.”


	5. Tender care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bloody knuckles scene. This is what really happened, right?

He hadn’t realized just how much his hand ached, the pain muted by the still surging rush of adrenaline. It wasn’t until the doctor began kneading his palm that he felt the stiffness, the cold water stinging the abraded skin. 

“It’s fine. I’ll be okay.” Will's heavy brows pinched in protest as he tried to pull his wrist free. 

Gently stroking each finger, Hannibal’s tone was as soft as his touch. 

“Nonsense. Just relax and let me do this.” 

Keeping his eyes low, a lump swelled in his throat. The intimacy of the moment near overpowering. 

Blue eyes softened, watching the older man, realizing it was the most cared for he’d felt in a very long time. A thank you, something, seemed in order. 

“Han-”

“Shh.” 

The mere sound of his own name threatened to launch Hannibal into a confession he feared making. The time wasn’t right. And when would he get to hold Will’s hand again. 

“I’m nearly done.” He swallowed, his heart thudding in his chest.

Will smiled softly, the pain forgotten. Sharing a moment of silence, he watched Hannibal gingerly pat his hand dry. 

“Thank you, Hannibal.” 

A finger curled over the doctor’s hand.

The subtle shiver that moved through him nearly took Hannibal’s breath away. Eyes lifting cautiously, he held Will’s gaze, lost in a sea of blue. 

“Better now?”

Free falling into the moment, the empath nodded, moving closer. 

“Will you kiss it?” 

“I will.” A threadbare whisper as Hannibal brought the hand to his lips, closing his eyes to brush a cheek over the soft skin before pressing a sweet kiss on each finger. 

“Better?”

Trapped in place under such tender attention, Will felt himself melting, his cheeks pink with a faint blush. 

“Much.”


	6. That kind of party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lose Bedelia. Add one "so done" Will Graham.

Will gave a curious look to the man at the head of the table. It wasn’t often that they dined with others since moving to Florence. Not outside of Hannibal’s work colleagues anyway. And without warning too. 

Tucking in to another piece of perfectly cooked veal, he eyed the stranger up and down. The fact that the man was a low-budget porn version of Will Graham wasn’t lost on him. Not even good trash porn. Rather some European gangbang stuff. The kind where you have to turn the volume down just to enjoy it or suffer through horrible accents. Not that he’d know, of course. 

The conversation hovered over Will’s head without his participation save the occasional nod or grunt. He couldn’t wait for it to be over. To stop the mindless banter about travel and exotic foodstuffs. That Hannibal seemed to be enjoying it was even more irritating. He’d get his reckoning after dinner when they were alone. No more guests without mutual agreement. And Will would get an answer to his question. Why this - this bescarfed, simpering twit. What was so special about him.

Looking up from his plate, Will felt the weight of eyes upon him. First Hannibal’s, then the other man’s. Apparently a question was put to him while he was elsewhere. Brain doing a quick rewind, he nearly choked on the bite in his mouth, quickly washing it down with a glug of chianti. 

_Is it that kind of party?_

Jaw clenched, he glared at Hannibal. 

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

Was this some kind of test? They’d talked about it. Teased really. Nothing serious. Certainly not an ambush. Looking from Hannibal to the man, his nostrils flared, bile rising in his throat. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he lay it down decisively on his plate. 

“It is, actually.” 

Brows lifted in Hannibal's direction, Will gave a “two can play that game” nod.

Pushing his chair in as he stood, he gestured to the sitting room. 

“Why don’t we all get better acquainted.” 

The coyness in Will’s tone put a smile on Hannibal’s face. He had only a faint idea what Will was up to, but curiosity was high. The abrupt question had taken him by surprise too. Not nearly as much as Will’s answer though. He almost wanted to applaud the Will’s reaction. So contrary to what he expected, Will must be working very hard at it.

The two men exchanged glances as Will lead them, the stranger undressing Hannibal with his eyes. 

“Sit,” Will ordered, pushing Hannibal onto the couch. “You too.” 

He almost called the man a name, but resisted, instead guiding him onto his Hannibal's lap. 

“I’ll get the wine.” 

With that, Will left them a moment of privacy. 

The man wasted no time making himself comfortable, straddling Hannibal down, arms around his neck as he lavished his mouth and neck with kisses. 

Unsure, but going with the moment, Hannibal returned equally. It was different, but not awful. Not entirely unwelcome. Not judging by the reaction of his body.

A sick crack rang out in the opulent room. Blood spilled onto Hannibal’s chest as the stranger slumped forward. 

Will stood over the both of them with a statue of a stag, blood spattered on his face. Fighting to catch his breath, his hands trembled, then dropped the statue with a thud. 

A shove sent the stranger tumbling to the floor. Will climbed onto Hannibal’s lap, lips crashing as he tugged his shirt free from his trousers. Breathless as he nipped and bit Hannibal's throat. 

“You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”

Hannibal pulled Will's shirt over his head. His was deep and smoky, lids heavy with arousal. 

“I hoped.”


	7. A different shade of red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up to find a different side of Hannibal.

It was early. Only a hint of light filtered through the heavy drapes. Just like any other day, and yet something seemed not quite right. A coolness made Will’s feet tingle. And a smell. Forcing his eyes open, Will groaned as an image came into focus. “H-Hannibal?” 

Hannibal happily continued to paint each of Will’s toenails a bright red. “Good morning.” He smiled warmly. “Did you sleep well?”

Will’s expression was pure bewilderment. Whatever was going on, Hannibal looked very pleased with himself. “Did I sleep well? ... What are you doing?”

Hannibal blew over the polish, cleaning a bit with his thumb. "I’m painting your nails. What does it look like?” 

Will challenged with a lifted brow. “ _Why_ exactly are you painting my nails?” 

“You have lovely feet.” 

Hannibal began kneading Will’s arches with perfect pressure. A shiver of pleasure forced Will's head back. “I do?" As often happened when Hannibal touched him, Will’s words ran ahead of his brain. “Tell me more.”

“Mm. Graceful arches, lovely long toes.” 

Hannibal’s eyes followed the path of his hands, rubbing slow circles up Will's ankle. He leaned down to press a kiss on Will’s instep. Will’s jaw went slack. Lulling, a needy sound fled his lips. 

Hannibal pushed his mouth over a big toe, rolling his lips around it. Will drew the sheets into his palms, rutting into the air. Languidly sucking, Hannibal slid a hand up his thigh.

“Oh god …”

Hot breath streamed from Hannibal’s nose. Lewd moans joined Will’s whimpered pleas.

“Don’t stop …” 

Will's hand drifted between his legs. A delicious urgency to his thrusts. Hannibal didn’t need to look. He could hear it. Smell it. Feel it in his own body as his thighs pressed tight.

“ _Oh …_ ” 

Sucking harder, Hannibal tasted Will’s pleasure in a whole new way. Such a simple thing. Breathless, Will reached out. “Come here, you.” 

By the time Hannibal crawled up to meet Will’s face, he’d licked every bit clean. Will offered a lazy smile, sweeping a thumb under Hannibal’s lip.

“You’re a complete and utter pervert, Doctor Lecter.” 

“Is that your professional assessment, Agent Graham?”

Will’s face lit up at the softness of his undone appearance. “Tentatively.” 

Nosing into Will’s neck, Hannibal hummed, “Mm. Further research then?”

Will stretched back. “Always.”


	8. Will's request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal takes care of Will's every wish.

It was rare that his sweet boy made a special request. When he did, Hannibal was always more than happy to oblige. 

Especially this time. 

He knew that things said during pillow talk were among the most candid. Shivers of pleasure had a way of loosening Will’s lips, among other things. 

From the genuine shyness in Will’s tone, it seemed he’d been holding this particular card close to his vest for a long time. But now he was ready to play it, face up. Honesty like that deserved to be rewarded. It had to be special.

It started with a long bath. Hot steam, plenty of fragrant bubbles to relax his young man. The warm water cascaded over the slope of Will’s pale back as a broad hand squeezed the soft cloth, a trace of foam lingering in the dip of his spine. 

Elegant fingers kneaded Will’s scalp, chestnut curls saturated with a rich shampoo that smelled of honey and almonds. Rinsing the last of it away, Hannibal stroked a plush washcloth around the curve of his hairline, patting it gently over his pink cheeks. 

A smile met with a coy nod was all it took before they moved into the master suite. The rolled up sleeves of Hannibal’s dress shirt damp under Will’s neck as he gingerly lay him on the bed. Crisp sheets rumpling as Will fidgeted anxiously, teeth pulling at his lip as he watched the preparations.

Sensing Will’s nervousness, Hannibal whispered a soft “shh.” With the gentlest touch, he lovingly lathered a thick coat of shaving foam from Will’s navel down between his legs. 

“Daddy’s got you, my sweet boy. You’re in good hands.” 

Succumbing to his lover’s soothing tone and confident touch, Will smiled, fingers glancing down the older man’s arm. 

“The hardest part was just asking. Seeing how much you’re enjoying it now, I realize I shouldn’t have waited so long.” 

“Anticipation is the best part.” 

Wistful eyes followed the smooth path of the straight razor. 

“That’s why I’m going to go as slow as possible. Just relax. This may take hours.”

.


	9. He felt powerful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The office. The lounge. Hannibal's perfect lips. Will learns something he didn't expect.

Will’s protest was weak, even more than usual.

“No …” His voice shivered as the good doctor pulled him down.

“Yes.”

Hannibal’s lush voice was like Will’s conscious. Speaking the truth.

The lounge yielded beneath Will’s knees as his belt opened with a rasp. Hannibal’s hands were so certain.

“Han- …”

Will’s words cut short when Hannibal pulled him to straddle his chest.

Spinning, falling, white heat behind his closed eyes, Will’s head fell back.

“ _Ohh_ … Oh god …”

He had to see. Those lips. That mouth so wanton now, smothering him with dirty suction.

Hannibal was already a mess. Silver-gray hair undone, his lips swollen and wet. By the way he twisted and held his mouth fast against Will’s body, Will was sure Hannibal wasn’t going to stop even when he came.

_This is what you wanted, isn’t it?_

The thought - the realization of his own power made Will ache, his sack hard and tight, pulled into his body.

Teeth clenched, Will’s fingers dug into Hannibal’s scalp, his breath hissing.

“That’s it. … Take it.”


	10. Dream of her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mischa only ever came to him when he needed to talk.

Hannibal’s eyes moved behind his lids, fingers gripping the pillow. 

“Hello Hannibal.” 

Her hair was a bit longer than last time.

“Hello Mischa,” he swallowed. “How have you been?”

Pale eyes softened as she rested a small hand on his arm. 

“I should ask you that question.” 

Even when she was sad, she was still so exquisitely beautiful.

Hannibal forced a small smile. 

“I’m fine.”

“Do you love him?”

The blunt question struck like an arrow. Hannibal’s heart jumped into his throat. He stared into her eyes, defenseless.

“I want you to be happy. I know that you think if you let go of the pain, you’ll lose me. But you won’t.” 

Tears welled in his eyes.

“Grief is not all you have. You have memories. Celebrate, don’t mourn.”

Searching her face, every cell in his body seemed to plead.

“Go to him. Tell him. Please.”

Hours passed. When Hannibal woke, he found himself shaking. 

“Are you okay? Restless night?”

Will’s voice was so tender. Like the sweetest embrace.

“Just a dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it,” Will asked, nestling closer.

Hannibal tucked a curl behind his ear. “Not right now. Soon maybe.”

Will searched for what seemed too long. “Anytime,” he sighed.


	11. Dear Will's First Caning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as the title indicates. Will's first experience with caning.

Will heard a sharp whistling sound before the first strike - the cane slicing through the air. 

It landed dead center across the meatiest part of his ass. Will felt its music - a melody in three parts: the sting, the throb, and the spreading burn. His torso slumped as he held himself on hands and knees. His neck arched back reflexively, then dropped, leaving his head hanging as his breath came in ragged pants. He paused for what seemed too long, and then nodded softly.

The second strike landed even harder, or perhaps the precision with which it overlapped the fierce stripe left by the first simply made it feel more … _emphatic_. Will choked in a breath and then stiffened his arms to steel himself.

He would not let his torso slump this time. He would keep his eyes focused on the blank wall before him. He would not let his head drop.

But the stillness of his body only served the magnify the spreading burn. There was nowhere to run from it, no shifting to distract from it, nothing to do but … ride it. 

He did. Like clutching at the ungraspable edge of a whirlpool - from the inside - slowly descending. 

And again, through the next strike. 

“Three,” he whispered softly to himself. 

And the next. 

“Four,” he stuttered quietly, biting his lip. 

Waves of heat broke over his body. Rolling and returning like the ebb and flow of the tide. Stirring something. Something deep. Something instinctual and untouched and begging to be released. 

His cock ached with fullness, fiercely hard and twitching despite his best effort to remain stoic and still. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Hannibal devoured the sight of him, the smell of him, every precious whimpered sound as he rolled the cane between his long fingers, pacing himself for the next strike.


End file.
